Diary of an Angel (4 page)

With Anawin as my guide, we exited the conservatory through a back door, and came out onto a broad terrace. We cut across the terrace and came to narrow path, which meandered along through a peaceful garden. Anawin was silent as we followed the path, the better to enjoy the song of the birds, the rustle of the wind through the trees, and the babbling
streams. At length, the path led us into a thick grove of trees, and despite the pleasurable scene around us, I began to wonder where we were going and why this couldn’t wait till later. I didn’t say anything, though.

As we penetrated deeper into the heart of the grove, I became aware of an intense light ahead of us. It seemed to be emanating from a clearing in the woods. Yet there seemed to be more to the light than just the sun breaking through. I wanted to run ahead and see what was creating the light, but I stayed with Anawin
, keeping our gentle pace. When we finally came to the clearing, a spectacular sight filled our eyes. I had never seen anything quite like it. The floor of the clearing was filled with flowers. Flowers blazing with colorful, swirling flames that danced excitedly in the air. We stood, entranced by the beauty of it.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Anawin said softly, as if a loud voice would extinguish the flames.

“Amazing. But what are they?”

“Fire flowers. Every flower you see is unique. Each one created by Father for one of His angels.”

“Fire flowers?”

“Yes, dear, burning with the flames of faith and virtue.” She paused and looked at the flowers again.

“Forenica,” she said, “He’s made one for you.”

“He made
me
a flower?”

“Yes, your very own flower.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small cubic box. She opened it and tipped into my palm a tiny seed, scarcely visible.

“It’s pretty small,” I said.

“So are you.”

I glanced around briefly at my surroundings. “So, I’m supposed to plant it somewhere?”

“Anywhere you like.”

I turned and cautiously walked along the path, which cut through the clearing. The air felt unexpectedly cool among the flames, not anything like walking amidst a raging fire. I tentatively reached out my hand toward a violet flame.

“It’s OK, dear, you can touch them,” Anawin said.

I allowed my hand to fall gently into the flame. It felt as if I’d plunged my hand into a stream of fresh water. The sensation gradually spread up my arm and then through my entire body. After a few
a blissful minute or two, I reluctantly removed my hand.

“How do you feel?” Anawin asked.

“Invigorated,” was the only word I could think to describe the feeling. Whatever the sensation was, I liked it.

My thoughts returned to the tiny seed in my hand, and I continued my search for a spot to plant it. The ground was densely covered, but I managed to find a small patch of earth just off the trail. I knelt down next to the spot. The soil gave easily beneath the pressure of my finger. In the thimble-size hole I made, I placed the seed, and then blanketed it with a pinch of earth. This was my first experience gardening in heaven. I stared at the spot for a few moments, perhaps expecting a little flower to spontaneously shoot up out of the ground into a full-grown flower.

“Do I need to water it?” I asked.

“No, dear, no water. All it needs is your growth. It’s a reflection of you. As you learn and grow, so will your flower. And one day you will return to this spot to find your flower in full bloom, easily the prettiest in the whole garden. It’s growing as we speak. Look.” She pointed to my little spot on the ground. Before my eyes a tiny green sliver wended its way out of the rich soil.

“What a special flower it will be. Just like you, Forenica.”

We stood silently for a moment, looking at my seedling.

Anawin broke the silence. “Now dear, there is something I must tell you.” I noted a touch of gravity in her voice. “Glaven reported on Jack earlier this morning. Angela is soon to pass through a difficult trial.”

Morning Surprise

I
pressed Anawin for details, but to no avail.
Did Jack have cancer? Was he going to die? Had Jack found another woman? What?
Anawin would only tell me that I needed to do what I could to prepare Angela. How was I supposed to do that when I didn’t even know what I was preparing her for?

“The type of trial is irrelevant,” she had said. “No matter what the trial, developing faith and trust in God is the preparation.”

And so I was left to wonder and worry until the situation revealed itself to me. Anawin took my arm in hers and we walked back along the path, back to Angel Command, where Clairus waited patiently for our return.

Angela was lying asleep in her bed, just as we left her the night before. Lina, the night guard greeted us, gave a brief report, then departed.

Outside, the sun slowly climbed over the horizon. Its pale light shown on the wall above Angela’s bed. Except for the faint chatter of birds somewhere in a nearby tree, she lay in silence. Next to her Jack’s ruffled pillow and disheveled half of the bed lay vacant. Altogether, a rather peaceful scene.

Suddenly, a loud crash broke the silence. Angela jolted upright in bed, her eyes wide and full of confusion. Soren appeared in an instant with a report.

“That was Kailey,” he said. “Angela won’t be pleased when she finds out what Kailey’s doing.” With a quick bow, he vanished.

Angela groaned, rubbing her eyes. She glanced at the clock and groaned again. Angela suspected her four-foot-tall bundle of trouble had something to do with the early wake-up call. She got out of bed, pulled on her robe and sleepily made for the kitchen, preparing to severely reprimand–possibly dismember–her youngest daughter. She fumed down the hall. There was nothing I could do to calm her much before she reached Kailey.

Angela heard another crash and headed for the kitchen. When she reached the kitchen’s threshold, she froze on the spot. Toppled pots and pans lay on the floor. Broken eggs, oozing yokes, lay scattered about. A pall of flour-dust hung in the air. Milk from an overturned carton dripped onto the counter and floor, collecting in a small puddle around the feet of a bedraggled, electric-egg-beater wielding six year old.

Kailey smile at her mother with strained innocence.

Viana stood behind Kailey, and simply grinned and shrugged her shoulders when she saw us. Clairus and I looked at each other, and back at Viana. Viana’s grin broadened. Then all three of us broke into laughter. Our laughter, unfortunately, was short lived; Angela did not find the situation amusing. Having recovered from the initial shock of seeing her devastated kitchen, Angela’s previous feelings of anger returned, in full force.

“What are you doing!” she demanded of her daughter, who pleaded for mercy with her angelic face.

“Making breakfast,” Kailey said, slowly, as if she weren’t quite sure. “I’m making pancakes.”

“Pancakes! What in the world gave you the idea that you could make pancakes by yourself?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look at this mess! How did you manage to make such a mess?”

“I can clean it up.”

“No! You’re not going to touch anything else. You’re going to take off those clothes, wash your hands, face and hair, and go straight to your room. And I don’t want you to come out until I come and get you.”

Kailey’s shoulders drooped as she turned and walked dejectedly out of the kitchen. With Kailey gone, Angela commenced the sticky job of cleaning up the remains of her daughter’s breakfast experiment. As she cleaned she repeated over and over again “What was she thinking? That child’s going to drive me crazy.” And she contemplated how she would punish her incorrigible daughter: no T.V. for a year, no talking for a month, grounded until age thirty-two, involuntary induction into a convent.

Before Angela finished erasing the last traces of Kailey’s cooking experiment, the phone rang. Angela did not welcome the sound. Picking up the receiver, she answered curtly, “Hello?” She immediately recognized the voice in the receiver, Mrs. Mapleton. Clairus quickly explained to me that Mrs. Mapleton was the neighborhood busybody and lived across the street. Angela was not pleased to hear from her. Still, she made some attempt to sound polite.

“Oh, good morning, Mrs. Mapleton.”

“Fine, Mrs. Mapleton.”

“No, everything’s fine.” There was a hint of exasperation in her voice.

“Jack? As far as I know, Jack’s just fine. Why do you ask?” she said.
Why don’t you mind you own business?
she thought.

“It is?”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Mapleton. But I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”

She politely ended the conversation and hung up the phone, no longer feeling aggravated by her elderly neighbor’s phone call. According to Mrs. Mapleton, Jack’s truck was sitting in the driveway, just as he left it the previous evening. Jack was supposed to be at work. Angela wondered if he couldn’t get it to start and got a ride from one of his buddies. She doubted it; Jack worked as an auto mechanic.

“Shouldn’t we find out where Jack is?” I said to Clairus.

“If you think so,” she replied, unhelpfully.

“I do. Where’s Soren? He should know what’s going on, right?”

“Why don’t you give your Communicator a try, instead?”

“Oh!” I’d almost forgotten about the mysterious crystal stowed in my pocket. I reached in and drew out the stone, giving it a good inspection, as if I expected it to look different on earth.

“So,” I said, “How does it work?”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Don’t you have one?”

“Of course I have one.”

“Well, how does it work?”

“Very well, thank you.” I looked at her with a feigned expression of annoyance. She just smiled back at me, trying not to laugh. She didn’t succeed, and we both start giggling. Clairus finally filled me in on the secret to the Communicator. “Forenica, I know how
my
Communicator works because He made it for me. Although, ours look similar, they are not exactly alike. Each is different—like the angel who carries it. Each functions in its own way.”

“Well then, why don’t we just use yours?”

“Because I will not always be here. Besides, I’m confident you can figure it out.”

I stared again at my stone. The idea to shake it like a Magic 8 Ball crossed my mind. “Where’s Jack?” I would ask as I shook it vigorously. The reply back, “Concentrate and ask again.”

Clairus offered a suggestion to help me. “Why don’t you try using it as you expect it to work? He designed it specifically for you.”

I thought about that for a moment. How would I expect it to work?

“Honestly, I would expect at least a power button—to turn it on,” I said.

“Perhaps it has one.”

“Where?”

“Once again, where would you expect the button to be?”

“Well, right here, I suppose,” I said pointing to a portion of its flat side.

“Good. Now turn it on already.
”

I gave her a doubtful look, shrugged, then pressed my thumb on the spot. Immediately after releasing my finger my little stone began to glow. Then a gentle voice spoke to me. “Good morning, Forenica. How may I assist you this fine day?” I hesitated, giving Clairus a look of surprise, before replying, “Uh, I would like to know the whereabouts of Angela’s husband, Jack.”

“Certainly, Forenica. According to our Soul Locator System, Jack is presently in the garage.”

“The garage?”

“Precisely,” replied the disembodied voice.

Then an image, like those from Angela’s book appeared above the stone. It showed Jack, hunched over his work bench, fiddling with some piece of mechanical equipment.

I turned off my Communicator and looked up at Clairus.
“Well, that was anti-climactic. What next?” I asked.

“I suggest not worrying about Jack, at present. Rather focus on Angela. I’m sure we’ll find out what’s going on soon enough. It’s best that you prepare her for it.”

Clairus was right, of course. As things stood, Angela would likely jump all over Jack when she discovered him. Just then, Soren appeared.

“Where have you been?” I asked, accusingly.

“Around,” he replied. “I’ve just been with Viana. Kailey is quite upset. There’s something on the table which you should encourage Angela to look at.” He pointed to the table, then vanished again.

That Soren sure doesn’t like to stick around
, I thought. “Get her to look at the table, huh?” I said. “That should be easy enough. It’s the only place not covered with flour.”

Clairus elbowed me, teasingly.

Thinking a direct approach might work, I placed my hand on Angela’s arm, and told her to go look at the kitchen table. A bit to my surprise, she actually looked over and noticed the piece of paper. I prodded her a little more to go look at it. Putting down her flour-coated sponge, she went over and picked up the small folded paper. A picture of a heart, drawn with red crayon, adorned the front of the page. Angela opened the folded paper and read in Kailey’s six-year-old scrawl, “Dear Mommy, brekfist for you. Love, Kailey.”

A sudden pang of guilt struck Angela, as she realized her sweet daughter had only wanted to make her breakfast. She recalled with a pang of guilt her harsh reaction to Kailey’s attempted surprise. How it must have broken Kailey’s heart! Tears formed in her eyes and she sank into a chair.

At that inopportune moment, Jack came in from the garage. He looked at Angela, then at the kitchen. “What happened in here?” Angela looked up, tear drops clinging to her cheeks. She held out the card for him to read. “Kailey was making me breakfast.”

Jack looked at the card. “I don’t understand. What happened? Why are you crying?”

In a subdued voice, she explained what had happened with Kailey. Jack made a nominal reply and left her alone.

I put my arms around her and did my best to offer her comfort. I couldn’t take the pain away, though. Not yet, anyway. She would have to make things right with Kailey and with God before the real healing began.

Angela sighed, wiped the tears from her face, then lifted herself from the table. “I need to go talk to her,” she said to herself.

She did go make things right with Kailey. It was a beautiful scene. Kailey’s trusting little spirit was all too eager to accept her mother’s apology. After giving her daughter a few more bear hugs, Angela suggested that the two of them go finish making breakfast together. A suggestion which Kailey excitedly agreed to.

Kailey and Angela made a delicious batch of pancakes. Kailey enjoyed herself immensely, but Angela was distracted. With the drama of Kailey’s morning surprise passed, Angela remembered that Jack wasn’t supposed to be home and couldn’t help but wonder what was going on. She decided that it would be best to find out after breakfast.

Together mother and daughter ate their pancakes, cleaned up, before Angela sent Kailey off to play. As she watched Kailey run off, she thought how glad she would be when school started again. She loved her children. Having them at home all the time, though, wore her out—especial that one.

Her thoughts returned to Jack.

She set out to look for him, hoping to find him alone. It did not take long to find anyone in their small one-story home. He was sitting on their bed reading the newspaper, when she discovered him. Apparently, he had no intention of hiding from her; else he would have chosen a better hideout. He did not look up from his paper when she entered the room.

Angela posted herself in front of the doorway, as if to bar any escape. Though making breakfast with Kailey helped improve her mood, she wasn’t prepared to respond with understanding to whatever Jack would tell her.

“Why aren’t you at work?” she asked, in a casual, but still accusatory tone.
Oh, Angela
, I thought,
did you have to ask it quite like that?

Jack looked up at her, con
templating how to respond. Glaven stood by, urging him to keep his composure. He ignored him, and his face hardened. “Because I don’t have a job, that’s why.” retorted Jack.

“What! What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have a job anymore,” he repeated irritably.

“Did you get fired?”

“No. Laid off.”

“What! Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it...there’s nothing to talk about. I lost my job—end of story.” Jack resumed looking at the paper, pretending to read.

“Well, what are we going to do? Why aren’t you looking for another job?”

Jack slapped the paper down on the bed and glared at her. “What do you think I’m doing!” Then he stood up. “You know, why don’t
you
go find a job?”

“Me!”

“Well, you’re the one who seems to have everything figured out. If you need any references, I’m sure the children would be glad to provide them.”

This was too much for Angela, and she didn’t know how to respond to Jack’s cruel sarcasm. She was mad enough to punch him in the nose. With clenched fists and gritted teeth she retreated from the ugly battle, slamming the door a
s hard as she could behind her.